Everybody Comes to Walmart
by IsaacSapphire
Summary: Sooner or later, everyone comes to Walmart. The Winchester brothers are no exception.


Everybody Comes To Walmart

Disclaimer: I don't own Dean and Sam Winchester or the Supernatural universe. They are owned by Eric Kripke and the CW, I think. I make no money from this fanfiction.

**Title: Everybody Comes To Walmart**

**Author: IsaacSapphire**

**Fandom: Supernatural (American TV show)**

**Wordcount: 600**

**Rating: PG**

**Pairing(s): None**

**Warnings: depictions of illegal activity**

**Reviews: Constructive criticism and praise are always welcome.**

Synopis: Sooner or later, everyone comes to Walmart. The Winchester brothers are no exception.

Timeline: Near the beginning of the first season.

A/N: I was thinking; self-inserts seem pretty much de rigor in this fandom. But let's be honest, my life is pretty boring; no monsters chasing me and I'm not stupid enough to go into haunted houses at night. But… there is one place where my normal everyday life intersects with the Winchesters' everyday activities… credit card fraud. The casher could be me… or not.

Slight text revision as of January 2, 2009

***

"I'm pretty sure I did the math right."

"Why do we need to know our total?"

"Things changed while you were off at college. Now be quiet and let me do this. What's the sales tax here again?"

"Hi. Did you folks find everything alright today?" The female casher asked them in a decent facsimile of a cheerful voice and a smile.

Dean turned on the charm. This worked better if you could distract them, that's why he'd chosen a young female casher. "Yeah, you guys have everything here." He started shoving merchandise onto the belt: table salt, batteries, flashlights, several sorts of lighters, lighter fluid, air and oil filters, motor oil, candy, a few large knives, and various first aid supplies.

The casher nodded and mumbled, "That's good." before rapidly scanning the items as they came to her. Sam was pulling a bag of rock salt onto the belt when she stopped him, saying, "I've got a hand scanner. No need to pull our backs out."

She walked around and Sam obligingly turned the bag over so she could scan the UPC. "Thanks."

When she scanned a knife, the register beeped and she said, "I need to see some photo ID please."

Dean quickly produced a driver's license and handed it to the casher. She carefully checked the age. "Thank you Mr. Martin." she said as she returned the ID, her smile a mite more genuine now that she had seen that he was about her age.

She rang up the last few items and produced the total. Dean swiped the credit card. Sam produced a CD player and cassette transformer set, handed it to her, and she added it to the order and totaled it again.

The casher repeated by rote, "Can I please see the credit card and some photo ID?"

"They don't normally ask for ID."

"It's company policy for larger transactions. After all, if I were a credit card thief, I wouldn't waste my time with $35 purchases."

Sam looked uncomfortable.

Dean fumbled through his wallet and produced the ID that matched the name on the credit card. The casher took both cards and looked at them intently.

"Could you two hang on a moment please?" She picked up the phone next to her and paged, "Attention associates. Can I please have a member of management to register nineteen. Management to register nineteen please."

"You know, if this is going to take so long, I'll just come back." Dean said, reaching across and snatching the cards out of her hands. He walked off, doing his best irate customer impersonation.

"I'm sorry ma'am." Sam said, then turned and ran a short distance to catch up with his brother. "Dean, what happened?"

"We have to get out of here before they nab us for credit card fraud. The first ID I gave her said I was Jonathan Martin, the second Jedediah Kolinsky. And they both had the same picture. This is your fault."

"How is your stupid mistake my fault?"

"She wouldn't have asked to see the credit card if you hadn't gotten greedy with your toy."

"It was a CD player that would work in the Impala. You know, join the twentieth century."

"It's the twenty-first century, college boy."

"CDs are old technology, genius. Everyone has MP3 players now."

***

The casher stood back while the manager canceled the transaction and the line grew restless.

Finally, she was able to start waiting on the next customer. "Sorry about the wait and thank you for your patience. Did you find everything ok?"

"Oh, yes. Were those men thieves or something?"

"Credit card fraud. I don't think we caught them this time." She sighed and muttered under her breath, "Two cute young guys in leather jackets. They're always thieves. At least they didn't get away with a big screen TV this time."

***

"Dude, now we have to find a convenience store that has salt."


End file.
